


On Our Way

by Moonrose91



Series: Adventures of the Crew of the Firefly-class Transport Azanulbizar [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Board game, Collection of one-shots, Firefly AU, Gen, Made Up Hobbit Tradition, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew (and not-crew) of <i>Azanulbizar</i> are on their way.</p><p>But on their way to what well...only the author can say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Valar Log

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Syxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syxx/gifts).



> Slice-of-life, character growth, collection of one-shots to tide you over till the next story-arc.
> 
> Like my filler chapters, only more clumped together essentially. So...yay?

It had been a week since the Elf, the Hobbit, and the Wizard had joined his ship and Thorin had found them not be all the irritating. Upon entering the kitchen, however, Thorin was quickly revised his opinion, at least about the Hobbit.

The Hobbit was rushing about the kitchen dragging things out of cupboards, from protein to cooking utensils and dishware. Some protein was split open and spread across the counter, a mass of colors that was garish and cruel to the eyes, especially on Thorin’s normally very _clean_ ship. The Hobbit seemed to be oblivious to Thorin as he tugged more cooking utensils down from what _should_ have been out of reach, clambering onto the counter, a shockingly clean one (though not so clean after the Hobbit climbed up on them), to get them. "What is the Hobbit doing?" Thorin snarled as he turned his glare, which was not affecting the Hobbit in the slightest (if the Hobbit knew he was there at all to begin with) on Glorfindel.

Glorfindel, who was watching from a near distance, glanced over and smiled. "What do you know about Hobbits?" he responded, as if that would answer Thorin’s question.

“They. Like. Food,” Thorin responded through gritted teeth, just barely reining his temper in, especially as Bilbo took that moment to toss a package of protein over his shoulder.

Glorfindel moved quickly to keep the package from hitting the ground, giving Bilbo a _look_ , which the Hobbit ignored as he instead cut a slice from a piece of green protein. “Yes, and he’s a Hobbit in a kitchen,” Glorfindel replied and Thorin couldn’t stop the growl that rumbled low in his chest if he wished to.

At this moment, he didn’t desire to keep it under control at all. “Give a Hobbit some edible supplies, and they’ll make a meal worthy of a king, no matter what those supplies happen to be,” Glorfindel continued lightly as the small package of protein he had rescued from being tossed around in his hands.

Thorin stared at the damage done to his kitchen area and glowered up at the Elf. “There will be protein left when he’s done, and that kitchen will be returned to proper order, am I understood?” Thorin demanded lowly and Glorfindel gave a small nod.

He was immediately distracted from Thorin when Bilbo screamed, “No blue!”

This was followed by him throwing a blue loaf of protein across the kitchen, or attempting to as Glorfindel was already there and keeping him from throwing the protein. The Hobbit struggled and whimpered, but Thorin just walked away, already plotting what to do when the kitchen wasn’t returned to its normal, orderly, state.

*~*~*

Thorin was frowning as he headed down to the dining room, already mentally shoring up against seeing the final devastation that would most likely be his kitchen. His frown deepened as he got closer to the dining area, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to…

Thorin stopped dead in the entryway, a perfectly pristine and orderly kitchen instead of the disaster area he had left earlier. The table was carefully set, even though Glorfindel was obviously fending Bilbo off from crawling right over him to get at…a log.

Why was there a log sitting in the middle of his dining table?

He was going to kill the Elf, as killing the Hobbit would just make him feel like he was harming a puppy.

He’d dump the Hobbit in Rivendell after killing the Elf.

“What is that?” Kíli asked as Thorin entered the room.

There was a soft exhale from somewhere inside the room, most likely from Fíli who was sitting next to his brother with his hand covering his face. “A Valar Log,” Glorfindel answered after a bout of silence and Thorin noticed how everyone, omitting Bofur, was leaning away from it.

Bofur was trying to get the knife from Glorfindel, who was mostly focused on keeping Bilbo in his seat. “ _Knife_ ya pointy eared weed eater,” Bofur demanded and Bilbo made a sound.

“Dandelions are healthy!” Bilbo protested, even as Glorfindel flipped the knife around so the handle was toward Bofur.

Bofur grinned and immediately sliced into the log to carefully remove an end piece to reveal a swirl of every color, omitting blue, surrounding a black center. “Why is the log rainbow colored on the inside?” Kíli demanded, even as Fíli’s hand twitched in an aborted ‘smack Kíli upside the head before he says anything dumber’ motion.

“Because it is a Valar Log,” Glorfindel explained and Bilbo was suddenly latched onto Glorfindel’s back, and staring at them over the Elf’s head.

“But what is it?” Kíli asked and this time Fíli _did_ smack his baby brother upside the head, even as Kíli whined slightly at that.

“A Valar Log. It takes a color representation of each of the Valar and bakes them into a log in hopes that they will impart their ancient wisdom into all who eat it. The outside of the log, to make it look like a log, is Eru, while the center, which is black, is the Fallen One,” Bilbo explained as Bofur began to happily eat his slice, even as the rest of the crew eyed it speculatively.

Gandalf seemed to step out of the shadows to settle at a chair, cutting his one slice from the protein log, even as Thorin twitched at thinking it being a log. Dís would never let him live it down if she discovered that he ate a slice. Dwalin, however, had crossed his arms. “What could anyone learn from the Deceiver?” Dwalin demanded.

“Not the Deceiver. The one who drew the Deceiver to the darkness and from his path, not the Deceiver himself. One that lies in wait, for he spurns even the one who would help him. He has fallen because of his greed and refused to see past his pride. He is the center, for he is the one we learn by mistake not example, though even he has lessons to teach. The gray is for the lady who always speaks on his side and grants him mercy. The red is for the one who judges all that die, the yellow for his wife who weaves the tales as they come into being. Deep forest green for the lady of all growing things and emerald for her husband who crafts the very stone. Paler brown for the hunter strong and golden for his wife and younger sister of the lady green. Silver-gray with darker gray intermixed and intertwining is for the pair of dreams and healing, both of who can work in one in the same, yet separated. Purple for the warrior and champion, pink for the one who is blessed with speed, with the curling power of the sea seen with a really pale green. White for the lady of the stars, and for her husband too. But. No. Blue. Never blue,” Bilbo explained as his arms tightened around Glorfindel’s shoulders.

The Elf sighed softly even as he tried to get Bilbo to sit down. “Yes, yes, no blue. No putting blue on your plate or letting you wear blue or have anyone wear blue around you,” Glorfindel responded as Bilbo began to tug lightly on Glorfindel’s hair, though everyone had stilled to watch Bilbo.

“No, no. Captain’s eyes are fine. I like that blue,” Bilbo stated and Glorfindel groaned even as Thorin’s eyes narrowed further.

“Fine, yes, lovely. Bilbo, sit down or you won’t get a piece of the Valar Log you baked. And you worked so hard on that. And you managed to make black for the core,” Glorfindel explained quickly as Gandalf placed a slice on the plate before Bilbo.

“I had to use the blue for something Fin. And I don’t want him to think I’ll do something bad. I don’t want to do bad things and I don’t want people to think I do bad things,” Bilbo explained, even as Glorfindel ran his fingers through Bilbo’s hair until Glorfindel pulled Bilbo around to rest against him.

“Bilbo, nothing you say can change a Dwarf’s mind. Their minds can only be changed by action. They are a very action oriented race, which is always a good thing,” Glorfindel stated, which had Bilbo staring forlornly down at his plate in a manner reminiscent of a kicked puppy dog.

“Eat,” Glorfindel pleaded.

“They’re not,” Bilbo mumbled and Glorfindel let out a long, sighing, groan, even as Bofur cut another slice.

Kíli eyed the log with renewed trepidation, while Fíli looked ready to bite the bullet. Thorin stared at the Hobbit that wasn’t eating before he reached forward and tugged the plate to him, slicing off a piece and putting it on his plate. “One slice won’t kill us. Most likely,” Thorin stated as he turned the knife over to Dwalin.

“And make sure that Kíli doesn’t use the knife,” Thorin stated.

“Why can’t I have the knife?” Kíli protested.

“Because last time the knife ended up in the ceiling. And you were cutting a cake,” Dwalin answered.

“Oh so if you put a knife into the ceiling _one_ time…” Kíli exclaimed.

“It was twice, Kíli,” Fíli corrected as an unfamiliar giggle came from Bilbo’s end of the table.

When Thorin looked up, however, Bilbo was eating his slice of log like it was a giant cookie. Thorin sighed as he eyed his piece before he glared at Dwalin, who was hiding a smile behind his beard as he cut his own slice. “Not a _word_ to Dís,” Thorin warned before he focused on his slice, cutting into it with his fork.

Kíli whined as Fíli cut a slice for Kíli to eat, even as Fíli eyed his own slice that was already on his plate. Thorin knew that they were waiting for him to take the first bite as the three passengers and Bofur (who would happily eat anything that wouldn’t put him in the hospital) were hardly people to take their cues from. With a dark glower for the table, he ate his forkful of protein meal.

The explosion of taste was surprising, but complementary. There was a hint of sweetness with a tang to it that reminded Thorin of expensive citrus fruits and he wondered how Bilbo had managed that taste. He distantly registered that he was eating more, taking more bites, even when the rest started eating, but when his slice was done, Thorin just put his dinnerware into the sink to be washed up before he walked away.

He had work to do.


	2. Star Checkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli, Kíli, and Bilbo all play a game of Star Checkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Star Checkers is Chinese Checkers, but there is no China in this AU, so...Star Checkers it is!

Fíli twitched when he felt a small form slide up next to him on the couch he was relaxing on. He opened his eye a fraction and looked out of the corner of his eye to find that the form was not Kíli (who knew better than to slide up like that anyway) but Bilbo, who was sitting and staring at him like a cat stared at a light on a Christmas tree and he was slightly afraid. While he was confused over the purpose of a 'Christmas tree' he _did_ understand that when a cat stared at one of the lights like that, it did not end well for the tree.

Ever.

Fíli watched Bilbo for a few more moments, his fear growing as Bilbo didn't even seem to blink, just continued to stare at Fíli. "Bilbo?" he questioned, voice hesitant, and that seemed to break Bilbo out of it.

He seemed to shake all over and then he was leaning entirely into Fíli’s space as close as he could get without actually touching the blond Dwarf. Fíli, barely, resisted the urge to lean away, though he was definitely wide awake now.

“Do you have time?” Bilbo asked.

“The time?” Fíli responded in confusion.

“No. Do you have time?”

Fíli nodded, slowly, and Bilbo beamed. “Good. Kíli says we need a third,” Bilbo stated, even as he leaned back, as if to give Fíli space to sit up.

“A third? For what?” Fíli hesitantly asked as he slowly shifted so he was leaning away from Bilbo.

It didn’t help much, as Bilbo was once again leaning into his space, to a freakishly close degree now, his ‘cat staring at a Christmas tree light’ look returning to his face. “We need a third. Please?” Bilbo asked.

“Okay,” Fíli agreed in the hopes that it would make Bilbo back off.

Bilbo immediately sat back with a happy chirp like sound that Fíli had never before heard come from any living being’s throat. “Yay! Kíli will be happy,” Bilbo stated as he hopped up onto his feet and bounced on the balls of them excitedly.

“Come Fíli!” Bilbo urged before he spun around and took off down the corridor in a manner that made Fíli wonder where Thorin was and why wasn’t he grounding the small Hobbit to his room.

With a low groan, Fíli got to his feet and followed Bilbo.

*~*~*

“You were supposed to say ‘no’,” Kíli grumbled as he began to set up the hexagon shaped board with the outline of a six-pointed star painted on it.

Well, trying to, at least. Bilbo was being anything but helpful as he was refusing to let Kíli grab more than just the board from the box.

“He was looking at me like a cat looks at a light on a ‘Christmas tree’! You try to say no to that face!” Fíli retorted.

Before Kíli could respond the unmistakable sound of a marble hitting the ground and rolling away was heard. Both brothers were pulled from their argument and focused on Bilbo, watching as a blue marble rolled away into the darkest corner of the cargo bay, the only room they considered when trying to find a place to play.

Mostly because, if Bilbo snapped, they wanted space to run and fight in. “Bilbo, what are you…” Fíli asked, only to get cut off as Bilbo’s head snapped up to stare up at Fíli like a wild animal forced to look up from its meal.

“No. Blue,” Bilbo stated and focused down on the box again.

“You know we’re going to have to find and clean those up, right?” Kíli demanded softly.

“I know,” Fíli confirmed as the second blue marble was tossed over Bilbo’s shoulder, bounced once, and rolled away to be lost and, most likely, forgotten.

*~*~*

Bilbo hummed happily as he set up his green marbles at the side of the star, with Fíli and his white marbles (his first choice was lost to the darkness of the cargo bay) at the top. Kíli was glaring down at his side spot filled with red marbles. “Maybe we should try to find Dwalin. Or the Elf,” Kíli stated.

“Fin busy,” Bilbo explained as he placed his final marble.

“With what?” Fíli questioned softly.

“Fin busy,” Bilbo repeated quietly as he stared up at them.

“Fíli’s turn,” Bilbo added as he turned to stare at the blond Dwarf.

Fíli sighed softly and moved his first marble.

*~*~*

“Bilbo, what are you doing?” Fíli asked softly.

“Making a design,” Bilbo answered simply and frowned up at them.

“You two keep messing it up,” he added and looked back down.

They had only been playing Star Checkers for twenty minutes, and already the Hobbit had lost the purpose of the game. “Bilbo, the purpose is not to make a design…” Kíli protested, but Bilbo made a sound of distress.

“I’m makin’ a design!” Bilbo stated and Kíli shook his head, even as Fíli hopped his white marble over one of Kíli’s red ones, heading to Bilbo’s unprotected star point.

Thirty minutes later, both brothers were staring in shock at the board. “How did you win?” Kíli demanded, even as Bilbo beamed at the board.

He looked up at both brothers at the exclamation and his head tilted to the side. “Win what?” he inquired and Kíli threw up his hands while Fíli investigated the board, trying to see how Bilbo had snatched victory when their backs were turned.

Was forgetting about the purpose of the game a ruse?

“Best two out of three?” Fíli asked.

Bilbo beamed and bounced excitedly in his seat. “Okay!” he exclaimed happily and the three quickly reset the board.

*~*~*

“You have to be cheating!” Kíli shouted as Bilbo won once more, this time in only forty minutes.

“Best three out of five?” Fíli questioned.

Bilbo grinned as he began to reset his marbles.

*~*~*

Nori didn’t even twitch as Glorfindel soundlessly leaned on the railing next to her, the pair of them looking down at where the three youngest on the ship played Star Checkers. “How long have they been at it?” Glorfindel asked.

“A few hours. Bilbo keeps winning to the point where it is getting ridiculous. He seems to keep forgetting that he’s playing a game,” Nori mused.

“He probably is,” Glorfindel responded quietly as they watched Bilbo win another round of Star Checkers on the floor of the hold.


	3. Blue Paints the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain is always a colour  
> Colour paints my memories  
> Colour paints the memories  
> Paint it anything but blue  
> Blue is what gives me pain  
> Pain colours me blue - Syxx

Glorfindel felt himself being pulled out of his nap by a shivery feeling skittering up and down his spine. He frowned and slowly got out of bed, sighing softly when he saw that Bilbo's bed was empty. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, hearing the distant hum of a Firefly in transit and…something else.

He shivered a bit and slipped on his shoes before he headed out. He paused when he felt a small shudder run up his spine and he glanced around. He could hear the Captain and Bofur discussing something in the cockpit, and he could smell Gandalf's pipe smoke, meaning that Dwalin would probably be shouting at the Wizard soon. He was sure that the boys were in…

He hissed and pressed his fingers to his temples as a sharp pain spiked through his head. He frowned and then he inhaled sharply as he registered that the only source of his 'unease', if such a disturbing feeling could be called something so mundane, could only come from Bilbo. He felt his chest tighten and he immediately began to search for him, heart picking up speed when he felt the sickly feeling brushing up against his mind.

Something was disturbing Bilbo and Glorfindel wondered if the others noticed, or if Bilbo’s newfound abilities to reach out like this were still not strong enough to get through Dwarven minds.

Not for the first time Glorfindel thanked his foresight to search for a Dwarf-exclusive crew to keep moments like this down to nothing, even as he followed the feeling, wincing as he stepped into the crew area.

“…-iance patrol, I don’t want to even hear a ping! They came too close when we went to Mirkwood a month ago, not to mention we have that cache of Black Listed books sitting in our hold!” the Captain snarled and Glorfindel moved silently along, tugging his now metal gray coat closer around him.

He paused when he came to the entry of one of the crew’s rooms and waited for the Captain to begin yelling anew (“I don’t _care_ that we were able to slip past them last time, I don’t want to be _near_ them in the first place Bofur!”) before he opened the door, the soft hiss of hydrolics being covered by a truly _impressive_ rant. He slipped down the stairway and landed, the silver of his coat billowing slightly before he turned and felt his heart stop.

Sitting in the middle of Fili and Kili’s room was Bilbo. He was kneeling in a puddle of blue paint that was slowly getting larger as he continuously drew strange objects, some of them were recognizable but most were not, and Glorfindel couldn’t even begin to describe _those._

The ones Glorfindel could recognize, at least somewhat, was a great dragon that seemed close to breathing fire, a Balrog, a fiery eye and nine beings clothed in cloaks reaching towards Bilbo, fingers slowly disappearing under the blue paint as it spread.

“Bilbo,” Glorfindel called softly, fear making his limbs feel chilled when Bilbo didn’t respond to him.

He didn’t respond to the increasing volume of the captain's voice. He just continued to draw more things in the paint along with getting more paint upon himself.

Oh, by Eru, Bilbo was in the crews’ quarters, had spilled paint, and was making a mess that was getting bigger by the minute…Eru curse it!

If the Captain found out, they’d… “Bilbo,” he whispered softly, reaching out to touch Bilbo, only to have the little Hobbit tween flinch away from him, mumbling in the Black Speech of the monsters that Bilbo was drawing and still haunted Glorfindel’s worst dreams.

He stepped away from Bilbo and sighed as he righted the spilled paint bucket, pushing the lid back on properly before he set it behind the rest, even though it was stained on the outside and looked around. “Bilbo,” he tried again, Bilbo still mumbling in the language of the disgusting thick and burning darkness when Glorfindel heard footsteps.

NO!

They couldn’t be found out, not now. Bilbo wasn’t in the proper mind frame for a raging dwarf! He tensed and nearly fell over in relief as they walked past. Glorfinel then turned his attention on Bilbo, who was now spreading the spilled paint over the floor so he could draw more.

His hands were coated in blue and Glorfindel let out a soft distressed sound at all the paint. How was he going to clean this up without anyone knowing? How could he hide this?

“I need cleaning supplies, and a very large sheet no one will miss,” he muttered and walked back over to the ladder, knowing Bilbo would remain unmoving in the room.

He slowly climbed up, his coat changing to match the interior of the ship. With a few deep breaths, Glorfindel stepped up into the hallway and locked the room behind him before he headed for the cargo hold.

He could hear Fíli and Kíli arguing about Star Checkers (“Uncle’s going to notice those missing marbles eventually, Kíli.” “Not if he never plays it ever again, Fíli,”) as he stepped into the cargo hold. He stilled briefly, before he walked up to the secondary shuttle.

He sighed softly as he walked into the secondary shuttle to get cleaning supplies. He knew that the secondary shuttle would be used for storage of extra supplies and it was easy to forget the exact number, even for Dwarves. He grabbed an empty box, quickly filling it with cleaning supplies.

He grabbed a sheet from one of the many stacked in there and set it on top of all the supplies before he hurried back to Bilbo.

*~*~*

Getting Bilbo away from the paint had been his first focus. The Black Speech had continued, slurred and harsh, even as Glorfindel carefully pulled Bilbo out of the blue. He wiped Bilbo’s hands wincing at all the paint, and at the destroyed clothes, before he wrapped Bilbo up.

The Hobbit struggled, even as Glorfindel crooned an Elvish lullaby, one long forgotten by all but the oldest. Bilbo shivered in the sheet as Glorfindel wrapped him up tighter so he couldn’t escape, before he set him to the side. With deft hands, heart pounding in his chest, Glorfindel began to clean up the blue paint.

The hooded figures reaching, the dragon, and the Eye of Sauron were among the first scrubbed away. They were followed by a sharp series of mountains, the symbol of Morgoth, and numerous others that he didn’t recognize and soon it was just the paint itself.

Glorfindel stilled every time he heard someone walking, conversations drifting down, but each time they moved on.

By the time all the blue was scrubbed from the floor, Bilbo had started to murmur anew.

This time he was speaking in Quenya, begging, and Glorfindel, once he was sure the box of used supplies was safe in one hand, used his free one to scoop Bilbo up close. He nuzzled into Bilbo’s curls gently and began to sing again, adjusting his armload to climb back up, the stolen sheet keeping the paint off his clothes.

Bilbo whimpered as they stepped onto the walkway and Glorfindel closed the door behind him before he hurried to the washroom that had been shown to them on the first day, the instructions of how the bath water was rationed still firmly drilled into his head.

*~*~*

Bilbo squirmed and cried as Glorfindel gripped his wrist, scrubbing at Bilbo’s hands with the water. “No, no, no, no! The blue! Get the blue away!” he cried as he struggled.

“Bilbo, darling, it is all right, I’m here. I’ll protect you from the blue. See?” Glorfindel murmured softly as he tried to hold a wiggling, mostly naked, Hobbit still while he scrubbed the last of the blue from Bilbo’s hands.

Bilbo trembled as he watched, and pushed himself further into Glorfindel as he held Bilbo close, hiding the now blue water from Bilbo. “Blue all gone?” Bilbo whimpered.

“Not yet darling,” he responded and Bilbo sobbed, twisting himself around as much as he could so he could shove his head against Glorfindel’s chest.

Glorfindel hummed as he began to work on scrubbing the paint off the rest of Bilbo’s skin, careful to soothe Bilbo whenever he began to sob again. His shirt was getting soaked, but Glorfindel didn’t care, just focused on his young charge, before finally going to his hair. Soon Glorfindel’s shirt was practically a second skin as he got the last of the blue out.

The bathing things were pushed to the side and he wrapped Bilbo in a towel before bundling him close. “The blue is all gone, Bilbo, all gone,” he murmured softly and Bilbo curled up tighter before he burrowed into Glorfindel’s embrace, sobbing all the harder.

*~*~*

Glorfindel smiled warmly down at Bilbo as he ran his fingers through the slightly damp curls, thankful that Bilbo had calmed considerably since his bath. He smiled as Bilbo buried further into his chest when the Captain entered the common room followed closely by Fíli and Kíli, drawing Glorfindel’s gaze from the top of Bilbo’s head to the trio of Dwarves who just entered the room.

“You two said there was enough paint for…the project!” the Captain stated even as Fíli shot Kíli a look, which had the younger Dwarf whining.

“There was! That bucket of paint was _full_ , or nearly full anyway! I don’t know what happened to leave us with only a quarter of it!” Kíli protested and Glorfinel focused back down on Bilbo.

“Or you just thought there was! This wouldn’t be the first time Kíli,” Thorin stated and Kíli made a protesting noise only for it to get cut off with a whine of pain.

“Your tea, Glorfindel,” Gandalf stated and he looked up from where Bilbo was cuddling into his embrace to meet Gandalf’s slightly disapproving gaze.

Glorfindel frowned slightly before he accepted the tea and focused back down on Bilbo. “Little one, do you want some tea?” Glorfindel inquired softly.

“No,” Bilbo whined before twisting to hide his face in Glorfindel’s chest, and Glorfindel resisted the urge to chuckle, even as he pulled Bilbo close.

He’d buy Kíli more paint at their next port of call.


	4. Gentle Affection and Harsh Truths

It had been two weeks since they last touched down dirtside and it would be another two days, if one was particularly optimistic, before they got to the next refueling station. With that mind, Thorin had taken some time to go over some plans for future craft work that he needed to approve before they got to crafting the first prototypes, and had shut himself away in his quarters shortly after breakfast to do just that.

Thorin didn’t even glance up from the blueprint when he heard one Kíli sized body followed closely by a Fíli sized body land next to the base of the ladder that marked the entry to his quarters. “Get out,” Thorin ordered as he worked on the 3-D blueprint.

“Uncle!” Kíli protested and Thorin looked up to give them a glare even as the soft hiss of the door moving, though this time to close, cut through the air once more.

It was only once the door was closed, effectively cutting Thorin’s quarters off from the rest of the ship once more before either of his nephews relaxed. “I thought I told you to get out,” Thorin rumbled out lowly, giving his nephews a sharp look.

“Captain, we need to hide,” Fíli explained as he leaned against the wall, staring up at the doorway above as if he expected it to suddenly open up once more to unleash some horrific monster upon them all.

Thorin leaned back slightly and raised an eyebrow at them. “What did you two do?” he questioned.

“We didn’t do anything!” Kíli protested in a slightly strangled voice, probably from the effort to keep quiet.

“Then you have no need to hide here, so get out and face whoever it is you have angered,” Thorin rumbled out before he focused back on the blueprint for a new rifle layout.

Maybe they should put more density into the barrel to allow for two kinds of shot instead of one. There could be some…

“Uncle, please,” Fíli asked softly, interrupting Thorin’s thought process.

He saved the diagram and set it to the side before he focused on his nephews, only to find that they were still glancing nervously up above. “What is it?” Thorin questioned.

“It’s Bilbo,” Fíli began and Thorin tensed at that.

Of course it was.

“He’s insane! He was whining and trying to claw his way _out_ of the ship for Mahal’s sake!” Kíli interrupted and Thorin felt his jaw tense.

“He’s…having issues, not…trying to claw out of the ship. He was trying to climb up to where the lights are welded to the ceiling, saying something about a pit and how the darkness would stain his soul and at that point Glorfindel got him down and…” Fíli elaborated, only for Kíli to interrupt again.

“And then Bilbo went insane and started to beat on Glorfindel and shrieked and screamed and Glorfindel and Gandalf had to pin him to the ground before they could grab him so they could haul him to the medbay.”

Fíli sighed and glared at Kíli before he focused on Thorin once more. Thorin, who was wondering why his nephews had to hide from Bilbo, barely managed to keep his temper in check over their dallying towards the _point_. “They tried to drug Bilbo and…he went weird. He started whimpering and pleading and Glorfindel just kind-of sagged, trying to get him to calm down, but Bilbo just kept begging him not to take the light away, not again,” Fíli explained and Thorin nearly flinched.

“Yeah, it was like he wasn’t even on the ship, but…somewhere else,” Kíli mumbled, looking away.

“And then he broke free and he kind-of…grabbed me,” Fíli answered and Thorin stood, which caused his blond nephew to jump.

Fíli immediately lifted his hands in a defensive gesture and he shook his head. “ _Not_ in a bad way, just…grabbed ahold of me, and said he’d behave, he’d be good, _anything_ just…just to not take the light away again,” Fíli explained, easily submitting to Thorin’s searching hands.

“Show me,” Thorin demanded when there was no obvious mark or proof Fíli had been grabbed at all and Fíli huffed before he removed his jacket, followed by his shirt.

Thorin’s eyes immediately went to the faint bruises blooming just above his elbows and he felt his heart stutter.

What if the little Halfling had gone for the neck or something vital? “He’s surprisingly strong, our little Hobbit,” Kíli mused, even as Thorin felt murder coat every thought.

“Uncle…he begged me to not let the light go away again, but he also asked if he’d be allowed to see…more light. I didn’t understand, but he thought that I could help him, somehow, and then Glorfindel pried him off and Bilbo was begging all over again, pleading and…we left. We came here, because…he sounded like he was being tortured. He sounded like the worst thing that could happen to him was taking away the light, and I…I don’t think we should have left him, but I didn’t know what else to do and our presence just seemed to be doing more harm than anything else,” Fíli stated and Thorin huffed before he ordered Fíli to put his shirt and jacket back on.

“What we shouldn’t have done was let them stay!” Thorin snapped as Fíli tugged his shirt back on.

Kíli made a sound, as if to protest, before he fell silent and crossed his arms over his chest, for there was nothing he could say to counter Thorin’s argument, and the younger knew it. “What should we have done then, Uncle? Let the Orcs take them, or worse, the Alliance?” Fíli demanded softly and Thorin glowered at the elder of his nephews, for there was no argument for that.

Thorin would not have let them be killed, or worse, by Orcs, nor let the Alliance capture them, for what the Orcs could do to them would pale in comparison to what the Alliance would do.

Or had done.

Thorin scowled at them and let out a long sigh, his rage and fear simmering within the back of his mind, flaring up with every slight clench of his jaw. “Very well. You two may hide in here, so long as you are _quiet_. But if you two distract me from these blueprints, I’ll leave you outside this room to face the Halfling,” Thorin warned.

They nodded as one and settled onto the ground, bending their heads close together to whisper as Thorin returned to his blueprints.

*~*~*

Glorfindel sighed as he righted the last of the medbay, the doors opened and unlocked once more since his battle with Bilbo, who occasionally shivered or twitched on the exam table despite the heavy sedation, had really begun. “Shouldn’t you be worried about that?” Dwalin questioned as Glorfindel began to pack the medication he had injected into Bilbo’s bloodstream.

The mixture should have put Bilbo into a deep sleep for a week, but Glorfindel was pretty sure it would only last for a few hours, if he was lucky. “Yes,” Glorfindel responded softly as he set the container of sedatives back into the cupboard and locked it away.

“Aren’t you going to inject something to get him to stop…twitching?” Dwalin asked as Glorfindel turned back around to face Bilbo.

He unfurled the blanket he had Gandalf fetch from the room Glorfindel shared with the Hobbit, and he wrapped Bilbo up in it. “I can’t. What he has in his system is dangerous enough and he’ll probably get violently ill once he wakes up. Thank you for your concern Master Dwalin,” Glorfindel answered as he walked past the Dwarf.

“I’m not concerned about him, I’m concerned about those aboard. If he goes on a rampage, there’s precious little we can do to stop him,” Dwalin stated and Glorfindel stopped dead, Bilbo shivering away in his arms.

“I understand Master Dwalin,” Glorfindel answered and hurried to his room.

*~*~*

It was dark again.

Bilbo didn’t like the dark.

He wanted the light back. Why was the light gone?

What had he done?

He was sorry, so sorry, for whatever it was he had done, he’d never do it again, whatever it was he had done that had taken away the light, anything just…please…

Please…please

_Don’t leave me alone in the dark._


	5. Blood and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD, nightmares

Dwalin let out a satisfied grumble as he checked to insure that the auto-pilot was keeping them on course.

While Dwalin didn't doubt Bofur, the pilot was just a bit insane and, more than once, he had plotted a course for the auto-pilot that wasn't really the best. Once reassured that everything was in ship-shape, but still feeling far too jittery to go back to bed, he decided to head to the cargo bay. He could do some quiet workouts there for a couple of hours, apologize to Nori for waking her, briefly, when she stepped out, and then head to bed.

Mentally calculating the fastest route, he walked around the front stairway to head to the common area and stilled in the doorway when he saw a form wandering in the low light. He watched for a moment, eyes narrowing as he watched the form shake his head and mutter, realizing that it was the Hobbit.

The Hobbit who never wandered around alone.

The Hobbit who wasn’t _allowed_ to wander around alone.

“Halfling,” Dwalin growled as he stepped in the room, _not_ flinching when the Hobbit jumped and turned to face him.

The Hobbit’s quick breaths were audible now and he stared. “Dwalin…Dwalin, there’s blood everywhere! Why…why is there blood everywhere?” the Halfling gasped as he stumbled forward, hands hovering before yanking back, looking around his unseeing eyes wide and wild.

He panted and whimpered as he continued to look around, twitching away from nothing. “There’s no blood, Hobbit. Go back to yer Elf,” Dwalin ordered and Bilbo frantically shook his head

“No, no, there’s so much blood and it is soaking everything. It is in my hands and I can’t get it out!” Bilbo exclaimed, grabbing at Dwalin and Dwalin caught his wrists, eyes narrowing further.

“The blood it’s soaked into my bones! They are crying and screaming, can’t you hear it!?  They’re drowning in all of the blood, all the blood of innocent people and its staining me and I will never be able to wash it out!” Bilbo cried, not even trying to fight out of Dwalin’s grip while Dwalin had to resist the urge to tighten his hold on Bilbo’s wrists too the point of breaking.

“Where did you hear that?” Dwalin demanded as he shook the Hobbit lightly and Bilbo whined shaking his head wildly.

“It burns and digs in, floating in the air, thick on the lungs and the blood, the blood, the blood everywhere! Why won’t they go _away_? Why won’t the ghosts ever go _away_?” Bilbo began to cry, but Dwalin had already let go of the Hobbit as he ran to Thorin’s quarters.

A small part of him felt like he should have gotten the damned elf first but it wasn’t nearly as important. There was only one person who talked like that and that person was Thorin. His words of condemnation rang in his ears after a night plagued by night terrors years ago.

_“The blood is soaked into my bones, Dwalin. Their innocent blood is soaked into my bones and I’ll never get rid of that stain.”_

He didn’t hesitate to open the door nor did he stop to think as he dropped down, landing hard. He didn’t bother to close the door, just rushed to the bed where Thorin was twisting in his sheets, teeth gritted. Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead and neck while his clothes were practically a second skin.

Dwalin hesitated, knowing from personal experience that just waking someone in a living dream was just asking for bad things to happen. He was about to back off,  and try to find something that could help in some way, when Thorin jerked awake and up, trying to swing his fists at invisible enemies, only to get tangled in the sheets further. He twisted more on himself and he tumbled to the ground as he continued to try to fight.

Dwalin slowly reached behind him as he turned on the lights so they were bright enough to show that he was in his quarters on _Azanulbizar_ , but not so bright they caused a whole new set of problems. He cautiously made his way to the trapped form on the floor. “Thorin, can you hear me?” Dwalin questioned lowly as Thorin tried to twist himself free, his harsh breathing far too loud in the confined quarters.

When Thorin didn’t answer him, instead just stilling a bit, Dwalin carefully knelt down out of biting range. “Thorin, there is no blood,” Dwalin stated, but Thorin shook his head.

Dwalin continued to talk about anything that came to mind that wasn’t red or war. He talked about Erebor and he talked about how Dís would kill them if he let the boys get lost on some planet or moon. He continued to talk until until Thorin was no longer twisting about. He continued to talk about the ship until Thorin’s eyes did not resemble the eyes of a wild animal and, finally, Thorin relaxed.

It was only then that Dwalin reached out to free Thorin from his blankets. Thorin just let him work, not really reacting, even after he was free. Dwalin hesitated briefly before he began to peel the soaked through shirt off Thorin and rubbed a towel over him to warm him up as he began to shiver. Slowly, the clothes were changed and so was the bedding.

Once reassured that everything was dry and clean, he carefully tugged Thorin back into bed. While he could see that Thorin’s eyes were open, they were distant, and Dwalin didn’t want to leave him. He couldn’t be sure if Thorin would actually pass into a dreamless sleep, or if he would slip back into nightmares.

Watching for Thorin’s reactions, Dwalin soon joined him and pulled Thorin close as he pressed his forehead against Thorin’s. He watched as Thorin’s eyes slowly focused, the stunning blues that were cloudy with sleep seeing the present. Dwalin couldn't help but relax and smile as Thorin pressed close to him. “Dwalin?” Thorin questioned.

“Yeah?” Dwalin answered as he pulled the blankets over them both.

“Did I shout?” Thorin inquired and Dwalin shook his head.

“No,” Dwalin responded.

“Then…how?” the Captain muttered as Dwalin ran a hand along his back soothingly, urging Thorin back into sleep.

“Instincts,” Dwalin answered, thinking of the little Hobbit and his frightened babbling.

He hoped, as he calmed his own healing soul back to sleep, that the elf had found the Hobbit and was doing the same for him.


End file.
